Photos of the Day

Milo and Me, in London

As I got deeper into my slow cities, happiness and well-being research, I realized that there was a lot going on in London, enough to make a trip worthwhile.  Once I set up my meetings and discovered that good friends from Austin who also have a six year old son would also be in London, I bought tickets for Milo and me.  Ben, our friend Margo and Gregory’s son, is an only child and Margo assured me that he would be hungry for some kid time.  For some of my work—the part that involved food—Milo could tag along.

Milo and I have never traveled alone before, and I was really looking forward to a few days that would allow us to have a lot of time together.   I had taken C.C. and my Mom with me to London a couple of years ago for another work trip, and it was really special.  Alec decided to take C.C. to Teruel, the dinosaur capital of Spain, for a little special time of their own.

We landed at Gatwick just before 9 pm on Thursday evening—10 pm in Barcelona—and decided to take a taxi given the late hour.  Milo fell asleep on the way to our hotel, and then shuffled into the lobby and lay down on one of the comfortable couches while I checked in.  We’re staying at the Knightsbridge Hotel, one of the Firmdale properties.  There are several in London and one in New York City.  I love the ones I’ve stayed in here.  The rooms tend to be small but funky and well-appointed, with terrifically comfortable beds.  And each hotel has a living room and library, where guests are encouraged to hang out, read the paper, and help themselves to food and goodies from a well-stocked “honesty bar.”  I love hotels—the anonymity they afford, the luxury of having one’s bed made every day, the room darkening curtains that encourage naps and sleeping in, the fact that I simply cannot get up and do the laundry, pay the bills, clean the kitchen.  When I find one I like—and it does not have to be fancy—I am loyal.  I love the Firmdale hotels, Kimpton Hotels and the Standard in the US, the Room Mate hotels in Spain. 

Right now I’m sitting in the living room of the Knightsbridge, looking out at the rain and drinking fresh mint tea while Milo slumbers down the hall in our room.  If he were to wake up (which he won’t) and not find me there, I know he would come right out; he’s made friends with all of the desk staff, fetching newspapers, videos, and nail clippers.  We spent the day today with Margo, Gregory and Ben, and afterwards Milo invited everyone over to “my house.”  Milo lives wherever he happens to be sleeping that night.

On Friday we spent the morning at the Princess Diana Memorial Playground in Kensington Gardens—hands down the best playground I have ever visited.  Milo agrees.  Its central feature is an enormous pirate ship complete with towers to climb, and situated in an enormous sand lot surrounding by bubbling fountains to play in.  There are also teepees, musical instruments that one plays by stepping on or striking them, swings big enough for five kids at a time.

We then met with the Slow Food London people at Covent Garden, had a little chill out time back at the hotel—Milo likes his chill out time—and then went to the South Bank to grab an early dinner at Wagamama and see a show called Free Run playing at the Udderbelly—an enormous inflatable purple cow that houses a small theatre.  Free Run is a show that incorporates acrobatics, martial arts, and something called parkour, which involves flipping and running around walls, poles, fences, etc.  I found it a little thin, but Milo was enthralled.  If you have a boy between the ages of 5 and 14, it’s just the thing.

One of my favorite things to do when I travel is to visit local markets, and Borough Market may just be my favorite market of all time.  Located right near the London Bridge tube stop, it is a fabulous selling spot for vendors of extremely high quality ingredients —fruit, vegetables, cheeses, spices, breads, meats—and prepared foods –jams, yogurts, pastries, and loads of hot food to eat right on the spot.  Since we were not in a position to shop, we had to eat our way through.  We started out at Monmouth Coffee, where I got the perfect flat white and two chocolate truffles, and sat on stools next to the communal table to sip, nibble, and read from Harry Potter.  I had recently started reading the first book to Milo, and he had become quickly addicted.

Next we set out to find the grilled cheese sandwich I have been dreaming about since I first ate one three years ago.  I had come to London for some meetings and Jody had come with me to hang out, see art, and eat.  Gourmet magazine had recently put out a special London issue (I really miss Gourmet—I have not found anything that comes close to replacing it, for me), which I had read from cover to cover.  Ruth Reichl, in her introductory piece, waxed rhapsodic about the “platonic ideal of a grilled cheese sandwich,” discovered at Borough Market. She confessed that she had stopped there to try it and, even though she was on her way to lunch, ate two.  It was perfect, this sandwich—thick slices of buttered, grilled, country bread filled with an amazing mix of cheeses from Neal’s Yard Dairy.  Sometimes it is hardest to do the simplest foods well.  When I went back two years ago, I dragged my mother and C.C. there in a jet lag haze—it was the first thing I ate after landing.  I had to have another. 

Milo and I went first to the site where the stand (which also made raclette) had last stood.  It was not there.  I remembered that it had been in a different location the first time I’d been to Borough Market.  Not there.  Finally I asked a market worker who told me the stand was no longer there.  I was speechless.  Isn’t London one of those places where things aren’t supposed to change?  I love that I can go back and back to favorite places.  What had happened to the grilled cheese?!?  When I finally found my voice, I said, “Really?  But why?  Have they moved somewhere?”  The perplexed market worker simply shrugged and said, “Sorry, I don’t know.”  How could something so delicious simply vanish into thin air?  I imagined that something terrible had happened to the grilled cheese makers—a fatal accident, a horrible illness.  It could not be that he had just decided to stop—no normal narrative could explain this mystery. 

I had to regroup, so I bought a freshly cooked prawn and garlic wrap, full of crunchy greens and spicy sauce, at Applebee, a vendor with a storefront just down from Monmouth Coffee.  I washed it down with a cup of fresh watermelon juice.  Then a raspberry meringue.  And then an irresistible scone filled with jam, cream and fresh strawberries from Konditor and Cook.  I was full, but bought a bag of new spring cherries for later.

Borough Market is Slow Food heaven, and we got there early enough so that I could have some good chats with the vendors before the market got too crowded.

We had a little time to kill before our afternoon theater date, so we headed toward the river to walk, drop into the Tate Modern shop, and read a bit more on the green in front of the museum.  I had bought tickets for us to see a show at the Unicorn Theater, a nonprofit children’s theater not far from London Bridge.  The show, The Night Pirates, comes from a children’s book and is about a boy who joins a band of rough, tough girl pirates who steal the front of his house late one night.  A far cry from Free Run—very sweet.  And Milo was once again enthralled.  I love that, although he is starting to want to be cool, Winnie the Pooh is still his favorite book and he loves all of the Pooh videos.  “No bad guys, and no smooching,” he says, by way of explanation.

I had promised that we could order room service and watch a movie one night, and Milo picked Saturday.  He wanted to get right back to the hotel after the show and, again, “chill out.”  I had picked up a little cold somewhere, so had no reason to argue.  Milo played on my iPad and I dozed on the bed.  We borrowed a DVD from the hotel’s library, ordered in some food, and kicked back.

Later, after Milo went to sleep, I did some internet digging to see what I could turn up about the Grilled Cheese Disappearance.  I found that the vendor was called Kappacasein.  And on its website, I learned that they had left Borough Market.  The home page cryptically explains that “We have been forced to find a new home for our market stall after being caught up in a dispute over loyalties.” Hmmm. The site listed a new address, and opening times, but sadly they are only on Fridays and Saturdays.  I take solace in the knowledge that the sandwich of my dreams still exists; I’ll simply have to come back to London to eat another one.